


It Counts for Something

by Uk18



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5561872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uk18/pseuds/Uk18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is just a man-made invention. At least, that's what Ashlyn keeps telling herself. AU where soulmates are determined by a clock on everyone's wrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Counts for Something

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is an idea I got after reading a story on tumblr. I plan on this first chapter being a foreshadowing for the rest of the story and taking the next few chapters to let everyone get a back story on how Ali and Ash met and some more information on the soulmate clocks. This one's a little short, but I just wanted to get some feedback on the idea and my writing to see if anyone wanted me to continue or had any suggestions on where to take the story. This is my first fic so let me know what you think!

"Today's the day." She said and I could hear the tears that were caught at the back of her throat. I sighed beside her and wrapped my arms around her stomach. She was right. Today was the day.  
"I know," I said, and squeezed her tighter, "but I thought we decided it doesn't matter."  
"You say that now but what happens when we see them, what if what they all say is true, what if it's all true?" She was crying again. 

We'd been having the same conversation for months. It started with her joking around and grabbing my wrist after we'd spent hours getting lost in each other. She would read the numbers and worry would flash across her face for a split second before she would look down at her own clock and a smile would curl onto her lips. "Only 4 more months 'til I finally have an excuse to leave your ass for the real thing," she would say, and I would throw my hand over my mouth and pretend to be insulted. As the minutes on the clock ticked by, the smile dancing on her lips slowly faded its way into a straight line--her lips pressed so tightly together that they were white around the edges. Month after month, she would stare at the numbers longer and longer pressing her lips together and squinting as if she was just reading them wrong. We’d danced around the subject for a while, trying not to have too many serious conversations about it. I remember the first time I ever really saw her break down over it. We had been lying in bed on a lazy Sunday night, pretending our responsibilities didn’t matter and that the real world was just a TV show on MTV. She was in the middle of kissing my knuckles when her fingers brushed across the skin where my numbers blinked. "You're scared, too, aren't you?" She had asked after I refused to let her see in an effort to forgo our bleak nighttime routine. "No,” I said, pausing to roll away from her. “I just think this is ridiculous." I finished, thanking God she couldn’t see the tears forming in my eyes. She was right. I was scared. I was terrified actually. We were supposed to meet our soul mates in a month and we were pregnant and married. Of course I was scared. I had heard the stories of meeting your soul mate, everyone had. Our parents were soul mates and their parents were soul mates and so were their parents. I remember being terrified to tell my mother I had fallen in love. "Impossible," she scoffed, "your clock still says you have another 12 years, don't do this to yourself." But I couldn't help how I felt and Ali’s clock still had 12 years left on it too. It didn't make sense for us to wait all that time when we had already found each other. "No, Ashlyn. That's my final word." Those were the last words my mother had said to me before I moved out. I loved Ali. It didn't take numbers on a clock to prove that our love was real. Besides, the numbers on our clocks were the exact same: "12 years, 2 months, 6 days, 7 hours, and 12 minutes." That's what both of our wrists had said when we met. That had to count for something.

Our shower was slow and deliberate this morning. I tried to memorize everything about the woman standing in front of me. The way she squeezed the shampoo onto the palm of her hand into a perfect circle. The way she tilted her head back under the shower-head, letting the water fall down over her. The way her brown hair spilled down her back. The way the soap pooled at the top of her stomach before racing down it. I committed all of it to my memory. I reached my hands out to touch her stomach, to touch our baby.  
"Hi Jonah, it's mommy I love you." I said, leaning down to kiss the top of her belly. Ali sighed and I felt her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me up to trap my lips in a kiss.  
"I love you more than anything, Ash." She said leaning our foreheads together. The water was warm around us and I never wanted to leave.  
"I love you most, Alex." I let my hands travel up her body, begging my brain to commit the feeling of her skin to memory. I pushed her head back under the water and ran my fingers over her hair, washing out the remaining shampoo. I don't care what the clock says; this woman is my soul mate.


End file.
